File:In Morocco (1920) (14595582058).jpg

Identifier: inmorocco00wharuoft (find matches)
Title: In Morocco
Year: 1920 (1920s)
Authors: Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937
Subjects: Morocco -- Description and travel
Publisher: New York Scribner
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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nbe said of the Spanish pistes. In the French pro-tectorate constant efforts are made to keep thetrails fit for wheeled traflSc, but Spain shows nosense of a corresponding obligation. After leaving the macadamized road which runssouth from Tangier one seems to have embarkedon a petrified ocean in a boat hardly equal to theadventure. Then, as one leaps and plunges overhumps and ruts, down sheer banks into rivers, andup precipices into sand-pits, one gradually gainsfaith in ones conveyance and in ones spinalcolumn; but both must be sound in every joint toresist the strain of the long miles to Arbaoua, thefrontier post of the French protectorate. Luckily there are other things to think about.At the first turn out of Tangier, Europe and theEuropean disappear, and as soon as the motor be-gins to dip and rise over the arid httle hills beyondto the last gardens one is sure that every figure onthe road will be picturesque instead of prosaic,every garment graceful instead of grotesque. One 18)
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O «^ o 3 L. X C O O H rA u T c* •c m B = o OS d ■fi 3 5 5 u 0 c e c3 H K •/; a o oo <. E- RABAT AND SALE knows, too, that there will be no more omnibusesor trams or motorcyclists, but only long lines ofcamels rising up in brown friezes against the sky,little black donkeys trotting across the scrub underbulging pack-saddles, and noble draped figureswalking beside them or majestically perching ontheir rumps. And for miles and miles there willbe no more towns—only, at intervals on the nakedslopes, circles of rush-roofed huts in a blue stock-ade of cactus, or a hundred or two nomad tents ofblack camels hair resting on walls of wattled thornand grouped about a terebinth-tree and a well. Between these nomad colonies lies the bled, theimmense waste of fallow land and palmetto desert:an earth as void of life as the sky above it of clouds.The scenery is always the same; but if one has thelove of great emptinesses, and of the play of light onlong stretches of parched earth and rock,

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